


Watching Over Everything You Do

by sinnerforhire



Series: Tornado 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fever, Gratuitous French, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerforhire/pseuds/sinnerforhire
Summary: Jensen has an infection. Jared does what he can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "I love you" said with a hoarse voice, under the blankets.

“No, don’t…no…stop. Fuck it, I said _stop_!”

Jared jerks awake and for a moment he thinks he’s back in the dorm, and he’s about to tell Chad to shut the hell up when he realizes where he is and who he’s with. He bolts upright. “Jensen?”

Jensen’s tossing back and forth, and even in the dim glow of the bedside clock Jared can see his face is flushed. He reaches out to shake Jensen awake and gasps when he makes contact with Jensen’s shirt. Even through the damp cotton, Jensen’s burning the fuck up. He shakes Jensen’s shoulder gently but firmly. “Jensen? Hey, Jensen, wake up.”

Jensen blinks awake and groans. He mutters something Jared can’t make out. Jared sits back and runs a hand through his tangled hair. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Jensen grates out. “Need a fuckin’ pill.” He groans again and scrubs a hand over his eyes. 

“You’ve got a fever,” says Jared. “Do you feel sick?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No, just my foot. It’s about a twelve right now.”

Jared sucks in a sharp breath. He knows Jensen’s referring to the 10-point pain scale, and if he’s in that much pain, it’s got to be an infection. _Shit_. “It’s probably infected. You want to wait till the doctor’s office opens or do you want to go to the ER?”

“No fuckin’ ER,” grumbles Jensen. “By the time they get to me, doctor’ll be there.”

Jared bites his lip. “Okay.” He reaches for the bottle of Vicodin and shakes one into his hand. He hands Jensen the pill and a glass of water. “Drink all of that,” he tells him, fighting down the waves of anxiety that threaten to overwhelm him. 

Jensen does as he’s told and collapses back onto the pillow. He pulls the bedspread up to his chin, but Jared takes it and shoves it off the side of the bed. “What the fuck?”

“You’ve got a fever. You’re not cold, you’re burning up.” Jared smooths the sheet over his chest and climbs off the bed. “Be right back.”

He goes to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with cool water. When he gets back, Jensen’s glaring at the doorway, jaw clenched tight. Jared sits down beside him and spreads the cloth over his forehead. “Hey, relax. You’re gonna crack a tooth if you keep that up.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but Jared sees his jaw muscles slacken and pats Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen reaches up and yanks Jared down onto the bed. “You’re a fuckin’ furnace, get in here.”

Jared slides underneath the sheet and wraps himself around Jensen as carefully as he can. Jensen pulls the sheet up over the back of Jared’s head and clutches Jared like a teddy bear. He’s silent for a long moment, and right as Jared concludes that he’s fallen back asleep, he mutters, “I love you,” in a hoarse, barely audible voice. 

Jared glances over Jensen’s shoulder at the clock. It’s 3:40 in the morning. It’ll be almost four hours until the doctor’s office opens and he can get Jensen an emergency appointment. He’s too wired to sleep; the anxiety he forced down before returns with a vengeance, and suddenly he’s the one shaking and choking back tears. He clamps his lips shut with his teeth, desperately trying not to wake Jensen up. He tries to breathe deeply and slowly so as to trigger his body’s natural relaxation response, but instead he’s gasping and straining for every breath. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to visualize a tranquil field of flowers stretching to the horizon under the endless blue prairie sky. When that doesn’t work, he tries to remember the first time Jensen took him out for a chase, the way they sat and watched the clouds twist and tumble, big fluffy cumulus that looked like marshmallows melting in hot cocoa. 

Hot cocoa sounds good. He gently extricates himself from Jensen and slips out of the bedroom. He pads barefoot to the darkened kitchen and turns the Keurig on. He grabs a hot cocoa k-cup and waits for the water to heat. Focusing on a task is slowly calming him down, and by the time he activates the machine, his breathing is far less frantic than before. He fidgets with the drawstring on his shorts as the cocoa drips into his Nittany Lion mug, one of the few souvenirs of his college life that he brought along when he drove his truck and all his stuff back from Pennsylvania. He kind of can’t believe his truck made it across all 1,269 miles without breaking down and leaving him stranded. Jeff’s still working on rebuilding the transmission, which he said was on its last legs. Jared’s got to do some work at Jeff’s house to pay it off. He’s got to mow his lawn for the rest of the summer, and clean the gutters and rake the leaves come fall. He’s lucky he doesn’t have to do that at Jensen’s house too, but Jensen pays a neighbor kid to do it. Has for years, although Jared’s probably going to let him off the hook next summer. Jensen says the kid needs the money, though, and won’t hear of Jared taking over. 

Jared takes a sip from his steaming mug. It soothes his nerves immediately, and he feels his heartbeat starting to slow down. He takes a few slow, deep breaths and drinks more cocoa. One good thing about enrolling at OU is that he’ll have access to Counseling Services come fall. He’s going to need it. He looked into a private therapist, but he can’t remotely afford it, and he’s too new a resident to get Medicaid or Medical Assistance in Oklahoma. They never really talked about Jared moving in, he kind of just did it, and Jensen never protested. The house is a little small for two adults, but Jared hardly brought anything beyond his clothes, his laptop, and a few books. Jared technically lives in the guest room—that’s where his clothes and belongings are stored—but even when he starts the night in his own bedroom he always ends up in Jensen’s by morning. 

Jared refuses to look at the clock. He remembers a line of a poem he read in French lit his freshman year— «une heure immobile qui n’est pas marquée sur les horloges, et cependant légère comme un soupir, rapide comme un coup d’œil.» He’s reasonably sure it was Baudelaire. _An immobile time not marked on clocks_ indeed. It’s only going to get worse, because he’s way too worried about Jensen to get back to sleep. He’s going to end up just watching him breathe and intervening if he has another nightmare.

Jared finishes his cocoa and washes out the mug. He slips back into Jensen’s bed and slides right into the space he left, curling up around Jensen’s torso and resting his head on Jensen’s pillow. Jensen’s sleeping peacefully for now under the codeine’s influence, but it probably won’t last. 

But if it doesn’t, Jared will be there.


End file.
